Gynophagia Chronicles: Samantha
Friday, September 11, 2218, 5 AM
The Wells Home, 1110 Beagle St. San Ramon CA.
From Samantha Marie Wells’ Memoirs
“Everything was okay!” Jenna whispered through her sobs. “And then his Dad came in.. and he had this big scary grin on his face. I thought we were both in trouble…”
Gracie and I listened with rapt attention as Jenna relayed the time she’d had on her date. We were all three of us cuddled on Jenna’s bed, her bare hips wrapped in a towel, slowly soaking up the blood. Jenna was leaning against Gracie who had her arms around Jenna. Jenna’s legs crossed my lap as we both caressed her otherwise naked body, trying to sooth away the hurt.
Jenna wiped away a tear and gritted.
“He turned the light on, Mr. Maxwell did and he goes: “Nice body art!” and he starts asking about it, so I tell him about the wedding and all that stuff… so he says: ‘why don’t you take your panties off and show me all of it!’ and I can’t say anything because Darren has my shirt all the way up anyway… so I stood up and took them off… so he asks me to take off everything. And I did… you know, I did because of the way he said it… like Dad would say it, only mean. Then he took all my cloths and walks out of the room and I’m standing there completely naked and I was sooo scared!” She sobbed again. “Then he comes back,” she continued at length. “And he says I get to walk home naked if I don’t do exactly what he tells me to.
“And I was ready for Darren! He could have had me and it would have been alright, but Mr. Maxwell… he made it all ugly! He wanted to watch while Darren fucked me! And it hurt a little… But it was almost okay, you know? But Mr. Maxwell, he just stood there looking all mean… Then Mr. Maxwell gets behind Darren and starts fucking him!”
We both, Gracie and I, gasped.
“He did not!” Gracie said.
Jenna just nodded.
“He got behind Darren... Darren was inside me and I was... I was having... it hurt and I still was having this orgasm! Got it hurt, and Darren had his dad's cock inside him! It was like his dad was fucking me, because he was slamming Darren and Darren was slamming into me!”
Jenna started to cry again, her small breasts bouncing as she did. I was keenly aware of them. Her nipples were erect and hard and mine ached the way hers must have. I was there for my sister, but my God I wanted to masturbate! I truly did. I might even have been able to being myself to orgasm if I tried hard enough...
“He made Darren suck him off five times. It’s why I’m so late! He never touched me at all, but he made me watch,” she was weeping openly now. “And he fucked Darren while Darren fucked me!”
Neither Gracie nor I had an idea what to say or do other than to hold her as she wept.
“Then he told me he was a meat inspector… and he’d have me culled for being a lesbian if I told anyone” Jenna kicked me. “Because of YOU!”
“Me?”
“Everyone knows you’re a lesbian! Maybe Mom is cooking two years early because she knows too! I told you guys!”
“Jenna, STOP!” Gracie admonished in a shouting whisper. “Just stop it!”
We were quiet for a long time.
“What are we going to do?” asked Jenna.
“Tell Mom!!” Gracie said.
“What? NO!” Jenna protested.
“Sam, don’t you think she should tell Mom?”
No, I didn’t… I shook my head. Not because of Jenna, or any present need to make her feel better, but to protect Mom.
“Well,” Jenna declared. “I’m not dating Darren the Faggot again!”
“If you don’t tell Mom,” Gracie warned. “Daddy will probably spank you.”
“I don’t care,” Jenna said. “Don’t tell Mom.”
“But…”
“Gracie, she’s right,” I said. “We can’t tell Mom. It would break her heart!”
“Maybe I should be spanked anyway,” Jenna said. “I was so stupid!”
By Morning, with very little of the sleep Fatima had ordered me to get, Daddy was indeed angry with Jenna for staying out so late.
At six in the morning, Jenna took her spanking bare bottomed while my sisters and I were made to watch, as we always were.
“I still think we should tell,” Gracie told me, wisely as it turned out. But we did not.
Jenna, for her part, seemed to feel better after having taken her punishment. It brought the whole episode to a close.
Mom wrote notes for Gracie, Jenna and me to be excused from PE. Water and our new adornments would simply not mix well while they were “setting.” Mine were flaking a bit, which worried me till Jenna informed me that was normal.
As senior Friday mornings are dominated by PE, the three of us spent time in study hall, and I had ample time to edit my interview and make notes that turned into my first article for Playpen. I turned those into Miss Emerson later that afternoon as an essay on Indian Conservatism right after I emailed the lot to Ashima.
“This is really good, Sam,” Miss Emerson told me. “It’ll be a nice piece for the Sunday Herald.”
“The Herald?” I said, alarmed.
“Of course.”
“Oh! Please don’t give it to them!”
“Why ever not?”
I was not supposed to talk about the interview, much less write an article about it for publication in a separate periodical, and now I was in trouble. I thought fast.
“It’s not my best work!”
“Really!? If this isn’t you’re best, I’ll be interested to see what is. The paper wants everything you write and has since they saw your interview with Congresswoman Sanchez.”
Oh shit! I thought…
“Miss Emerson,” I told her. “I swear, I’ll make it up to you somehow! Just please don’t give them that article! At least not yet!”
Miss Emerson looked at me very suspiciously.
Jenna, sitting next to me, had completed her work. Something, surprise, surprise, about sexual desire.
“What did you do?” Jenna asked knowingly.
“I wrote about something I shouldn’t have,” I admitted.
“Why should you not write about India?” Miss Emerson asked. “You are studying to be a journalist, aren’t you?”
Just then my, well, Ashima’s PDA beeped. Reflexivly, I glanced at it.
“Great work,” it said big and bold on the display. “Playpen is ecstatic!”
Miss Emerson snatched it off my desk.
“Playpen?” she snapped. “What are you doing receiving emails from Playpen? And at school, no less? You know the rules!”
That was how I found myself in Principal Farmer’s office. Principal Farmer hung up the phone.
“Do you know who that was?” asked the woman towering over me even though her desk separated us.
I sat huddled, feeling the urge to bolt. My PDA sat on her desk. It was nearly two in the afternoon and I was missing class.
“Uh,” I whispered. “No…”
“That was our attorney. Apparently, Playpen Magazine now has the first rights of refusal to everything you write, period. That’s as of Wednesday, and this is the first I’m hearing of it! Not to mention the fact that it puts the school in an extremely awkward position! We now have a contract with a client we cannot possibly fulfill, thanks to you, and we may lose a considerable amount of funding because of it!” She pushed the PDA at me brusquely.
“That’s yours,” she snarled. “Please ask Miss Emerson and Miss Masters to see me before you leave today.”
I nodded as she turned her attention to something on her desk. Momentarily she looked up.
“Get out,” she said calmly.
What else could go wrong today?
At least I did manage to complete all the quizzes for the day… so I did not lose any grades.
After school we, Jenna, Gracie and I, sat on the bleachers watching the junior and senior combined varsity cheerleading squad practice together for the first time this year. Of course, this included our middle sisters, Miki and Patti.
“I really wish I was still on the squad,” Gracie said. It had been the highlight of every week of her junior year. She absolutely loved it. The thirty two member combined squad would do all twelve season games and if the team went to the playoffs at regionals, they’d go as well. The junior squad did all the basketball games while the senior squad competed in the Cheerleading competitions. Gracie was positive they’d make it to State that year.
“Why?” Jenna asked.
“Look at this flip coming up,” Gracie said.
As we watched three senior girls were launched into the air each by three other girls. When they came down the three below them caught them and lay back in an unfolding motion. The effect appeared like three small explosions of motion, at the end of which the entire squad popped up shouting “Minute Men!”
“Wooohooo!” Gracie applauded. So did Jenna and I. It was that impressive even to a girl (me) who had zero desire to be a cheerleader.
It also broke our melancholy a bit, especially when the entire squad bowed to us gracefully. Even Amy Vickers and Rachel Wozniac bowed and gave each other high fives. Don’t worry, they still hate each other.
“How hard is that move, Gracie?” I asked.
“Hard!” Gracie said. “It’s hardest if you’re catching, cuz you have to chatch and drop and not drop the girl you’re catching in the process. It’s easy to hurt yourself too.”
“Ever do it?”
“We started doing it last year, but only toward the very end of the year… we never did it publically or even outside. I really want to see them go to nationals!” That’s Gracie, no grudges at all!
“I wish you could go too,” said Jenna.
“Me too,” I said.
“Well,” Gracie said. “At least I get to watch and enjoy it this way. I just hated the drama. Maybe Patti and Miki will get to go next year…”
It was four by the time we arrived home from school, Jenna, Gracie and I were in better spirits than we had been during our melancholy laced time on the bleachers. Jenna and I rarely teased Gracie, but today we took turns chiding her about being the last virgin among us. We’d always suspected she’d be the first to lose her virginity.
“Maybe I’ll make Jenna take my cherry!” Gracie chided back. “You know that she's a closet lesbian, right Sam?”
“Not!” Jenna protested. “Hey, isn’t that Jake Tucker’s truck?”
Sure enough, as we approached the home Jake Tucker’s huge white pickup was in our driveway backed up to your garage, which also lay open.
“Hello, Ladies!” said Jake, who stood next to our father and both brothers.
“Hi, Jake!” we crooned.
“Sam,” Daddy said. “Can you come here a minute?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” he pointed down to the spot immediately next to him with a rigid index finger.
I crept up slowly, quite convinced I was in trouble, my sisters hanging back and not in the least supportive. I motioned for them to follow with the word “please” forming on my lips, which they did not. In the meantime, Mom with Reba had appeared and both ventured up to our little group. The other thing, and the one that really bothered me, were the looks on Eric and Jimmy’s faces. The brows showed concern. Then I saw that they were all standing in front of Eric and Jimmy’s roasting cradle.
“Sam,” Daddy said. “Mr. Tucker has something he wants to ask you.”
“Uh, yes I do,” said Jake. “If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind,” I said, turning a bit red at the way he was looking at me.
“Uhm… I, uh, I need to know if this thing, the cradle… was it completely horrible to be on?”
“What he means is,” Daddy said. “You told your mother you’d get back on it…”
I nodded.
“How bad was it to be on?”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t. It’s just that… I was, you know, a virgin…”
“Yes!” Jake said. “Yes, I know!”
“Well…” I said. “The shoulders are not quite comfortable after a while…”
“What about the probe?” Daddy asked. Mom’s hand went to her mouth, and she looked back at me while Reba, standing next to her, looked back and forth from the cradle to me.
“It was fine,” I said. “I was ready for it, though.”
Eric and Jimmy had hopeful looks in their eyes.
“I mean,” I continued quite nervously. “It wasn’t their fault. I should have told them before they put the thing in me…” God it sounded horribly incestuous.
Even Eric was weepy, and Jimmy just came and hugged me. It was the first time since Wednesday either of them seemed able to look at me.
“I’m so sorry,” Eric said as I hugged him.
“Okay, then!” Jake clapped his hands together as if something momentous had happened. “Sammie, thank you. Boys, shall we?”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Mr. Tucker is taking it to the machine shop,” said Daddy. “They’re going to replicate it and… well, we’ll see.”
“Party’s over,” Jake said. “Let’s load her up!”
And they did. The four of hem hefted the heavy sculpture into the truck as if it weighed nothing at all… and I assure you, it weighed quite a bit!
“What is that thing?” Reba asked.
“Don’t ask,” Jenna said.
Reba frowned, looking back at it. I did manage to notice that the blood had been cleaned off it.
“So, hey… I asked your Mom if you could spend the night at my place…”
“That’s assuming,” Mom said. “That you don’t have any pressing work to do.”
“She doesn’t,” Jake said as he passed by. “Ashima’s swamped with everything Sam’s shoveling in the door, so please, hold off on giving her anymore for a while!”
“Good,” Mom said. “Are you staying for dinner, Reba? Or is Ester cooking?”
“Ester? Cook?” Reba giggled a bit hysterically.
“Then I guess you’re staying for dinner… do NOT tell me you boys are all running off right now?”
“We’ll be back!” said Daddy.
“Yes, I’m sure you’ll be back at some point next week when you’re finished fussing with your new toy… what about dinner? It’s almost ready!”
It was a light dinner, and Jake and the boys inhaled the food in less than ten minutes (they could easily have done it in five, but they were trying to be polite) and bolted.
“So what are you going to do tonight?” Gracie asked Reba.
“I dunno,” Reba said. “Probably watch a movie or something…”
I imagined this had something to do with Reba’s new boyfriend, but I said nothing, not wanting to embarrass her.
“Sammie doesn’t get out enough anyway. She’s always working anymore.”
“I’m not Jenna,” I smiled, and Jenna punched me in the shoulder.
“Well, it’s okay,” Jenna said. “For some odd reason you and Reba get along well. Must be the hair!”
The whole table laughed, and I punched Jenna in the shoulder.
“Mom,” Jenna said. “Can I take a shower yet? I’m filthy!”
“Me too,” I said. “I truly did feel grungy, having been used to taking two showers a day since the beginning of school.
“What is it, five?” Mom asked. “How many hours is that since they finished with you, Jenna?”
“They finished at seven last night,” Jenna said.
“Twenty Two,” said Danielle. “Twenty one for Sammie and Nineteen for Gracie.”
“Okay, I think that’s more than twenty hours,” said Mom. “So I guess you both can shower.”
“Great!” I said, jumping up and rushing to get ahead of Jenna, who, likewise made a mad dash to the linen closet.
That quickly, she beat me to the shower, and I almost slipped getting inside.
“It’s flaking!” Jenna complained, and I looked at what she referred to.
The paint that had been laid on her skin was, indeed, flaking everywhere it had been. Looking down at mine, I saw it was, likewise, flaking off.
“What do we do?” Jenna asked.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Well,” Jenna said. “They’ll just have to redo it… or not.” She went into the shower and started soaping herself as I was about to put on a robe and talk to Mom about it. Almost instantly, when water cascading over Jenna’s skin took away the soap and most of what remained of the flaking paint with it, the real end result was revealed. Just under the skin was a beautifully tinted layer of dye that had embedded itself, and was even more brilliant than I would have thought. We marveled at it after I called attention to it.
“I really don’t want to go out tonight,” I said. “And what’s up with Mom? She was all protective of me and suddenly she can’t wait to get me out of the house!”
“Maybe she’s sick of you!” Jenna said. “I am!”
“Right…”
It was nice to put on something other than that hideous school uniform. I borrowed a pair of Jenna’s bedazzled jeans (the only pair with no holes in it) and walked off with Reba toward her place.